


The Diplomat

by at_least_i_didnt_fake_it



Series: The Kumars [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Bisexual Sirius Black, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, F/M, Gen, Indian Harry Potter, Indian James Potter, Jewish Remus Lupin, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw, james' indian cousin, this could be really shitty but i'm actually sort of proud of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_least_i_didnt_fake_it/pseuds/at_least_i_didnt_fake_it
Summary: Hardly anyone would observe Anjali Kumar and James Potter at school and conclude that they were related in any way. Anjali was the opposite of her extraverted cousin. Well, not quite the opposite, exactly—more like his natural foil, the anti-James, so to speak. Anjali just wants to finish her schooling without any drama so she can become a Magic Naturalist and specialize in Magical Diplomacy. But when adult unicorns go missing in the Forbidden Forest and fairies start turning up dead, it's up to Anjali to figure out what's going on and stop the killings, once and for all.Now, if only she could stop getting distracted by one Sirius Black.(prequel to HP fanfic The Revolutionary! I don't own HP, it is JK Rowling's intellectual property).
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Kumars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851892
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! this is mostly a companion piece/prequel to my story the revolutionary (which is currently on ff.net and quotev and not posted on ao3, but will be within the week). i'll just be uploading the first chapter now, but this won't be updated until i get (at least further) through the revolutionary. hope you enjoy!
> 
> (features desi james potter, chinese alice longbottom, jewish remus lupin, and multiple lgbtq+ ocs who are living their damn lives to the fullest).
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own harry potter or any associated characters, nor will i ever - if i did, i wouldn't be a transphobic jerk about it, and the main characters would be present as proudly diverse.
> 
> if you, like rowling herself, are a cis person who feels threatened or victimized by the existence and validity of trans/nonbinary/fluid folx, i suggest you fuck right off and find another story. i mean that just as rudely as it comes across. full disclosure, i myself am a cis woman, so i want to acknowledge that i will never understand the trans/nonbinary/fluid experience, nor will i ever pretend to.
> 
> to the rest of you, i extend love and warm wishes, and strive to validate you in these stressful times: whatever it is causing you anxiety right now, you are valid for feeling the way that you do, and though i hope you feel better about things as swiftly as possible, i recognize that this might be difficult to do. if it is helpful at all, you are important and loved and you matter.

It really was too early in the morning for this sort of nonsense, fourth year Ravenclaw Anjali Kumar thought tiredly to herself, buttering her toast half-heartedly as her eyes trailed down the Gryffindor table to find her cousin and his friends at the center of the commotion. It seemed that Sirius Black, her cousin's best friend, had slipped a potion in his pumpkin juice, or perhaps hexed him with a rather innocuous spell, for atop James' head were a pair of elegant antlers that had sprouted quite spontaneously through his messy, jet black mop of hair. Both boys were laughing uproariously, as was their other friend, Peter Pettigrew, along with most of Gryffindor table. Even the ordinarily shy Remus Lupin was grinning broadly, saying something Anjali couldn't hear that was apparently very funny, because the four boys shook with mirth as he finished.

The rest of the hall, Anjali included, were far less tickled by this turn of events. Yes, Anjali admitted to herself, the sight of James with those ridiculous antlers on his head was rather amusing, but it certainly didn't warrant the level of noise it had elicited at barely seven in the morning, during the first week of term. The prank, while entertaining, lacked the creativity of a particularly inspired trick; there was nothing really clever about it at all. Then again, she thought wryly, Gryffindors weren't exactly known for their dazzling wit.

"Really," groaned Anjali's friend, Henrietta Silverfoot, glaring over at the rowdy group of students, "People who can be that happy this early in the morning oughtn't to exist."

Over at the Hufflepuff table, Head Girl Alice Chang seemed to agree.

"Oi, Potter, Black!" She shouted, an unusually grumpy expression on her normally cheerful round face. "Shut up, will you? Some of us haven't had enough coffee to handle your nonsense yet!"

The boys turned to grin good-naturedly to her. "Oh, come on, Alice, you know you love us," James called, beaming.

Alice, who despite the difference in age and house did indeed know the boys well due to her relationship with the now-graduated Gryffindor Frank Longbottom, simply rolled her eyes. "Just keep it down, at least until it's a more reasonable time, I'm begging you."

It was perhaps only the affection all four boys shared for the well-liked Hufflepuff, who was perhaps the surrogate elder sister to most of Gryffindor House given the amount of time she used to spend with Frank in their common room, that convinced them to do her bidding; that and the warning glance from Professor McGonagall from the staff table that conveyed in no uncertain terms that she wasn't above giving them detention for being loud at such an obscene time in the morning. Anjali felt a quick jolt of amusement at that—even their no-nonsense Transfiguration professor couldn't quite handle the troublemakers before eight in the morning.

"Right you are, Al," Sirius grinned and winked, waving his wand and removing those ridiculous antlers from James' head.

Commotion over, Anjali turned back to her toast, only half-listening to the conversation around her.

"Honestly," Henrietta was saying, "There is going to be nothing worse than having Double Herbology with the Gryffindors first thing in the morning." She shook her head. "They're just exhausting."

"Speak for yourself," mumbled Ifeoma Okoye, Anjali's other best friend. "I have Ancient Runes with Slytherins on Friday afternoons, last class of the week. It's like they're all afraid they haven't been cruel enough to reach their quota by then, so they're making up for it in that one period."

Both Henrietta and Anjali winced sympathetically. It wasn't that they hated all the Slytherins, by any means—it was just that the ones in their year were particularly bad, with such unsavory characters as Severus Snape and Celsus Mulciber, and no redeeming classmate to save their peers' reputation. The year above them, at least, had level-headed, mild-mannered Avila Desmond, who had proven she was not above taking points from her own house with her newfound power as a Prefect, and below them was third year Regulus Black, who, granted, wasn't quite the rebel his brother had proven to be, but who curbed his friends' more discriminatory tendencies with a sly word or a quick distraction.

"What do we have this morning, then?" Asked Anjali, determinedly forcing down a yawn by chewing on her toast.

"Double Herbology," Henrietta repeated slowly, sending Anjali a wry look. "With the Gryffindors. You really don't function this early, do you?" She teased. "You know, if anyone needed a good boost of energy in the mornings, it's you."

"Laugh it up, Hettie," Anjali said, trying not to yawn again but failing miserably this time. "We can't all be addicted to caffeine."

"Or sunlight," Ifeoma added, eyeing the fourth year Gryffindor boys enviously. "I swear, those boys are solar powered."

"It's a little odd, actually," Anjali murmured, taking a sip of her water. "It usually takes James ages to wake up in the mornings. I've never seen him this sprightly before ten."

Both her friends gave a little start. "That's right," Hettie said with a mildly surprised blink. "I keep forgetting you live with him."

"It's hard enough to believe that you're cousins," Ifeoma added. "You both are so different."

It was true—hardly anyone would observe Anjali Kumar and James Potter at school and conclude that they were related in any way. James was brash and loud, with a penchant for mischief and a talent for troublemaking. He was popular among the school, well known even to older students thanks to his and his friends' more dramatic practical jokes. He was also, Anjali was reluctant to admit, slowly becoming a bit of an arrogant bully, his already swelled head growing larger thanks to his spectacular win in the last Quidditch match of their third year, where he scored a goal right as Hufflepuff's Seeker caught the Snitch, putting Gryffindor just ten points ahead as the game ended. As family, Anjali loved him to bits regardless, but even she had to acknowledge the downright unbearable smugness in James' cocky attitude was becoming too much.

Anjali was the opposite of her extraverted cousin. Well, not quite the opposite, exactly—more like his natural foil, the anti-James, so to speak. Or perhaps she was someone he might have been, in a different life. She was quiet and kept to herself, with just Ifeoma and Hettie to count as close friends. She wasn't unpopular, or ever the object of anyone's ire; rather, she was mostly unseen, often slipping into anonymity as her cousin attracted attention. She was polite for the most part, unless someone really deserved a good dressing down, in which case she wasn't above the odd surreptitious jinx or hex. She was smart, yes, but as a Ravenclaw that was already a stereotypical expectation for her to meet, and she wasn't nearly so flashy about her brains as James or Sirius or even earnest Lily Evans.

Despite their starkly different personalities, however, James and Anjali got along like a house on fire. Anjali's placid nature and quiet wit endeared her to her more outgoing cousin, who likely would have felt the need to compete with a more hotheaded, confrontational family member; he had, after all, lived as an only child for the first eight years of his life. Granted, when Anjali first came from India to live with her aunt, James had resented her. He had been used to being the center of attention in the mansion, and he'd hated her for threatening his perfect world, especially since at first he hadn't known the terrible circumstances that led to his cousin's sudden appearance in his life. But Anjali had grown up with three siblings before they'd died, and she was used to sharing the spotlight; so the two cousins stopped butting heads within a year and quickly became thick as thieves.

On a superficial level, they shared their grandfather's thin nose and messy black hair, as well as their great-grandmother's long face; but few students looked past the almond brown skin tone that marked them both, and most of them were loathe to ask either one of any familial ties, for fear of sounding racist. It therefore simply wasn't a well known fact at Hogwarts that the loudmouth Gryffindor and unremarkable Ravenclaw were family, though neither James nor Anjali attempted to hide it, and most students seemed to conclude that due to their vastly different personalities, they couldn't possibly be related. Hettie and Ifeoma knew, of course, as did James' friends, and she supposed the more observant students scattered through the years who'd seen them interact at meals and in the halls knew as well, but for the most part, the young witch never found herself associated with her troublemaking cousin.

"We ought to go to the greenhouses now," Hettie said, checking her watch, pulling Anjali out of her thoughts. "No need to give Sprout any more reason to hate Anjali."

"She doesn't hate me," Anjali protested. "She just recognizes that my talents are better served outside her class, that's all. Besides, I'm determined to do much better this year, just you wait."

"Don't know if that's possible, considering how you ended last year spilling Stinksap all over Greenhouse Two," chortled Ifeoma. "I've never seen Sprout lose her patience that quickly."

Anjali groaned, but got to her feet anyway. "Don't remind me," she sighed, "I can't wait to drop that infernal class. I'm sure Professor Sprout will be just as relieved as I when I fail that OWL next year and can't accidentally kill all her plants anymore."

Still, despite her embarrassment over her truly miserable performance in Herbology, Anjali had to admit it was sort of dramatically entertaining when Professor Sprout seemed to visibly wilt at the mere sight of her; it seemed that she, Hettie, and Ifeoma were the first three to arrive. The stout, kindly woman let out a long suffering sigh as the young Ravenclaw accidentally knocked into a potted Puffapod and caught it, cursing, before it could shatter on the ground. Unfortunately, the poor Puffapod shrank into itself, the vibrant colors dulling at a mere touch of Anjali's hand.

"Er—sorry, Professor," she said sheepishly as she placed the plant back on its shelf, decidedly less reserved than usual around the Professor that most certainly had seen the very worst of her. There was no point, she rather felt, in hiding behind her quiet demeanor, not when her flaws had already been borne. Funny, really, that the Professor who knew her best was the one whose class she was closest to failing.

"Miss Kumar," said Sprout resignedly, "I suppose it would be too much to hope that you'd managed to keep your Valerian plant alive this summer?"

Anjali grimaced. "It lasted about two weeks," she said regretfully. "I even named her Amrita, after the nectar of immortality in Hindu mythology, but alas! She succumbed to that most mysterious inevitability. I did manage to save the roots for my potions supplies, though," she added, more cheerfully, "And I gave poor Amrita the most lovely funeral."

"And you claim you're not dramatic," muttered Ifeoma under her breath. "All of a sudden, the family resemblance is clear."

"Perhaps if you had spent more time caring for the plant instead of naming it, you might have had more success in keeping it alive," said Professor Sprout tartly.

Anjali couldn't deny the logic there—James had told her as much when she barged into his room with an uncharacteristic lack of composure, demanding an explanation for why her poor plant had died. (He'd still helped her with the funeral, even reading a eulogy as Anjali stood by, holding back tears). Properly chastised, she sat down in her seat and pulled out her textbook and faux-dragonhide gloves, waiting with Ifeoma and Hettie for the rest of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to filter in.

A mere ten minutes later, everyone was in attendance, all nine Gryffindors and eleven Ravenclaws in the fourth year. Professor Sprout called through roll quickly, not waiting for any responses and instead just looking up to confirm the right people were in her class, before clearing her throat briskly and announcing that this year, they would be caring for their plants and doing all of their practical assignments in groups of three, with one pair.

A part of Anjali wondered if Professor Sprout was doing this to curb the amount of destruction she could cause in the greenhouse by herself—but she quickly decided that if she was really that hopeless, she'd best remain oblivious to it, and anyway, it was rather self-centered of her to assume she had anything to do with it at all.

Professor Sprout quickly lumped students together, sending Ifeoma to work with Paul Hartley and Mary Macdonald, and Hettie to Gryffindors Remus Lupin and Siobhan O'Malley. Anjali herself was put with the unbearable Preston Pucey from her house, though luckily she also got James in her group. Her cousin looked distinctly put out by this turn of events, and Anjali had to admit that he'd drawn the short straw, as they both knew just how terrible Anjali was at Herbology, and nobody could stand Preston's uniquely pompous self-image.

"Right, then, is everyone alright?" Professor Sprout asked, perhaps not anticipating an answer to the contrary.

"Sorry, Professor," came a nasally voice from the corner, and Anjali craned her neck to see Daisy Barker, one of the girls who shared her dorm, raising her hand. She was a notorious gossip who was obsessed with James, much to Anjali's endless amusement and her cousin's constant revulsion. Daisy, fancying herself in love with the rich heir to the Potter fortune, rather hated Lily Evans as a result, for it was no secret that James was infatuated with the ginger Muggleborn. And of course, it was just Daisy's luck that she was paired with the object of her crush's affections, with no third person to offset the imagined tension.

"Yes, what is it, Barker?" Said Sprout impatiently.

"Unfortunately, Lily and I can't work together," Daisy said, briefly pausing in the impassioned delivery of a venomous glare in Lily's direction in favor of adopting an air of great, simpering disappointment. For her part, Lily Evans looked mildly bemused but unaffected, as if she had no idea why Daisy disliked her and truly could not find it in herself to care. "She's got a cat, see, and I'm terribly allergic—the fur on her robes—"

"Yes, yes, alright," Sprout said. "Any group of three volunteer to switch?"

James sat up straight, and Anjali watched him out of the corner of her eye, equal parts offended and resigned. His hand shot up in the air and he practically shouted, "My group can!"

(Daisy Barker seemed to think James was enthusiastic for her benefit and not Lily's, and fluttered her eyelashes at him, giggling).

Here we go, Anjali thought to herself, bracing herself. Goodbye, any chance I had of getting an E this year. Between her, Preston Pucey, and Daisy Barker, she doubted greatly that they could even identify the right plants, let alone care for them.

Professor Sprout peered over the top of her glasses, assessing their group. "Very well," she said. "Barker, go switch places with Kumar."

Anjali's heart leapt—Lily Evans was supposed to be quite good at Herbology, and it certainly beat the potential team of Pucey, Barker, and Kumar.

"Ye—Wait, what?" James cried, hazel eyes flashing with horror. "Kumar? You mean, Anjali?"

"Yes, Potter."

"But—"

"No buts, Potter."

"I—"

"Enough, Potter, one more attempted argument and its ten points from you," Sprout said fairly but sternly, and that was the end of that. "Kumar, Barker, get to it. We haven't got all day."

Hardly daring to believe her luck, Anjali quickly packed up her stuff and went to sit next to Lily Evans, ignoring the annoyed, envious look James was directing at her back. Serves him right, she thought a little gleefully, for putting a potential in with Lily over helping out his favorite cousin. That'll show him!

Lily seemed relieved that it wasn't James or Preston coming to sit with her but rather the quiet Ravenclaw she'd never quarrelled with. It wasn't that Anjali and Lily were close—on the contrary, they'd rarely spoken with each other over the years—but they shared a mutual relief for having each other as a Herbology partner. Anjali suspected Lily had no clue how truly awful she was at the subject, or else she might look a little more apprehensive, but, eager to leave a good impression, the Ravenclaw girl gave her a quick, warm smile, sitting down next to her and pulling out her book.

It would be years before Anjali pinpointed that very moment as the instant her life had changed forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James wants to switch Herbology partners.

The Ravenclaws in Anjali’s year were not, by any stretch of the imagination, a tight-knit bunch; that is, they were all generally civil to one another, and aside from the occasional brief spat, were not known to have much by way of interpersonal drama. But they were not close, having grouped off back in first year with certain others. The fourth-year Ravenclaws were close to a few others in their house and year, but were at the same time often distant and cordial with the others. 

There were five Ravenclaw boys in Anjali’s year, and none of them were particularly of note to her. John Reems and Colin O’Brian were close with each other and rarely interacted with the rest of them, though they were good company when they did. Oliver Jones was kind but quiet and reserved, and seemed to prefer the company of his books and the fifth year girls to the rest of his house. All of Paul Hartley’s friends were Hufflepuffs, so she never saw him around, and of course nobody ever wanted to talk to the insufferable Preston Pucey. 

The six Ravenclaw girls were split into two groups of close friends, and though they all got along, the dynamic was tenuous at best, for nobody wanted to destroy the peace and make their shared dorm a living hell. By unspoken agreement, they decided to get along and figured once they made it through seventh year, they wouldn’t have to ever see the girls they didn’t quite care for ever again.

Opal Hughs and Daisy Barker were two sides of the same coin. Both were incredibly clever but chose not to care about the world around them, instead remaining self-absorbed despite the war that had been raging for nearly five years already. Daisy was obsessed with Anjali’s cousin James, which was equal parts amusing and disgusting, and Opal, for her part, had a giant crush on one Sirius Black, though he never seemed to pay her (or really, any other girl) much mind. They weren’t bad people necessarily, just immature, and though Anjali hoped they’d grow out of it, she still didn’t exactly enjoy her interactions with them.

Caroline Boatman was, in Anjali’s opinion, far more bearable, if only because she wasn’t entirely obsessed with a boy, and seemed at least peripherally aware of her own standing and privilege. She wasn’t exactly the type to stand up to her friends when they were being particularly catty or annoying, but she had, on occasion, apologized on their behalf. Of course, it was endlessly frustrating that Caroline wouldn’t do anything more than that, or address her supposed best friends, but Anjali remained hopeful that one day, the other girl would grow a backbone.

Anjali, of course, had Henrietta Silverfoot and Ifeoma Okoye in her corner. Hettie was tall and and blonde, with piercing grey eyes and full lips. She was a half-blood, but the wizarding side of her was descended from Veelas; her father had come from the type of Pureblood family that had disowned him when he courted a Muggle woman, though twenty years later they were married and very happy. When Hettie had arrived at Hogwarts, she’d had to spend a good amount of time ignoring the sneers and glares of Slytherin prefect Lucius Malfoy, who, as her Pureblooded third cousin, had inherited the Silverfoot fortune by default after Harrison Silverfoot was kicked out of the family. Still, Hettie had a quick temper and was known for her sharp, impatient retorts, though with her two closest friends the bite in her tone was often undercut by warm affection. She was very creative, and loved nothing more than helping Ifeoma test her charms and jinxes.

Ifeoma Okoye had only begun living in their dorm at the start of term this year, though she’d been best friends with Hettie and Anjali since they were eleven. She was a Muggleborn witch, though she learned later from her grandmother that her late grandfather was, in fact, a Squib. Her family had immigrated to the UK when she was a toddler, and in early schooling the young Ifeoma grew up a voracious reader, in part to ignore the racist bullies she’d been forced to endure. Soft-spoken and exceptionally kind, Ifeoma nonetheless had a wit of steel and was known to use the most creative jinxes of her own creation when provoked, all with an easy smile on her face. Of course, sometimes the discrimination got to her, as discrimination was wont to do; even now, whenever she received shit for doing something mundanely normal and none of anyone’s business, like using the restroom, it would break her heart and wear her down. Her strength did not stop her from being hurt, after all; and she knew she had people to rely on, even if they couldn’t understand what she was going through. Of the three friends, she alone knew what she would do after school—she wanted to be a Spell Crafter, and already her experimental Charms were reasonably successful. She’d created a few mild hexes, too, which Anjali and Hettie tried out gleefully (but secretly) on some of the more cruel Slytherins in their year.

Anjali knew quite well that the rest of the school, on the occasion that they did see her, thought of her as Hettie’s and Ifeoma’s sidekick rather than as an autonomous person of her own. This did not bother her nearly as much as it did her friends; she maintained that anyone who made the effort to know her knew differently, and those who did not were not worth getting upset over. It was a lesson she had learned when she first moved in with her aunt, when eight year old James gave her the cold treatment for months on end, unrelenting, until finally even his indulgent parents put their foot down. James finally grew to see her as a real person, and not just a literary skeleton of one, but not many others did. It was always a source of whispered confusion to the rest of the student body when the most interesting person in the school (James) sought out the most unremarkable (Anjali).

It was for that reason that when James caught her eye in the Great Hall one day during dinner the second week of September and beckoned for her to come over, she steeled her nerves, bracing herself for the odd looks sure to follow her as she spoke normally with the most popular boys in school.

“You two go ahead,” she told Hettie and Ifeoma. “I’ll be along soon.”

They nodded, and Anjali approached the Gryffindor table, eyebrows raised. James was sitting there with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, all of their plates heaped up with food. 

“Switch Herbology partners with me,” he begged.

That was something to be said for James—he got right to the point.

Anjali furrowed her brows. “Er—no, thanks.” She nodded politely at his friends. “Hello, Black, Pettigrew.”

Pettigrew managed a quick wave, and Black spared her a polite smile. 

“No?” James echoed. “Come on, please?”

“And willingly subject myself to a group with Daisy Barker and Preston Pucey?” Anjali shook her head. “Sorry, James, I already live with them.”

Next to James, Pettigrew coughed, unsuccessfully trying to hide a snicker. 

James made a face. “Switch with Barker or Pucey, then, I can’t stand either of them!” He whinged.

“And you want to send one of them over to work with Lily Evans?” Anjali asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought you liked her more than that. Besides,” she continued sensibly, “Daisy can’t work with her, remember? That’s what got us into this mess.”

James groaned. “I thought when I asked Sprout to switch she’d put me with Evans!” He complained.

Anjali sighed. “It’s only been two weeks, James, I doubt she’s any more likely to switch us now than she was when you asked.” She pointed out.

James scowled, but then caught sight of Lily Evans walking into the Great Hall with her friends. She paid him no attention, but his eyes followed her as she sat further down the Gryffindor table with Mary Macdonald.

“Is that all, then?” Anjali asked, casting a longing glance back at the Ravenclaw table, where she could see Hettie and Ifeoma digging into what looked like a mouthwatering curry dish.

“What, eager to leave?” Teased James, his mood suddenly lifted at the sight of Lily Evans. 

“A bit,” Anjali said honestly.

“Oh, come on, stay a bit and catch up with your favorite cousin,” James cajoled.

Black, who had long since lost interest in the conversation and who had been boredly making his goblet dance for the better part of five minutes, finally looked up. “Come off it, mate, if she wants to go, better let her. Besides,” he smirked, “Can’t blame her, really. It’s hard enough just looking at your ugly mug, I can’t imagine being related to it.”

James gaped in mock offense, but chuckled anyway. Black smirked, clearly pleased with his own wit. Pettigrew, who seemed to take his cue from the other two, laughed along.

Anjali smiled, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. Honestly, did nobody in Gryffindor appreciate a clever wit? Surely Lupin…

She cocked her head to the side and blinked. “Where’s Lupin, then?” She asked. “Still feeling ill?” He hadn’t been in class the previous day, which was normal enough; he was known to come down with a one-day bug every so often. She didn’t miss the significant looks the three boys exchanged. Really, Gryffindors needed to learn the art of subtlety.

“I suppose,” James said, his tone a bit too airy to be genuine. “Haven’t been to see him.”

“Doesn’t he live with you?” Anjali pointed out, brows furrowed. “Surely you saw him in your room this morning, and again after classes?”

“Er—”

“He went to the Hospital Wing for a Pepper-up Potion, and Madame Pomfrey told him to stay,” Black cut in smoothly. “You know how she is. I’ll tell him you were concerned, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” His tone left no room for argument—Anjali knew a dismissal when she heard it.

“Splendid,” she said mildly, “Thank you.”

She didn’t believe for one moment that the boys had been honest with her about Lupin; James might be good at lying now, but she’d been there when he’d perfected that skill at age nine, and she knew his tells. Still, it really wasn’t any of her business, and she didn’t care all that much what Lupin was doing—probably some sort of mischief, knowing her cousin’s friends. 

“Well, James, if that’s all, I really must get going,” she said. “I have some extra credit for Professor Kettleburn after dinner.”

“Alright, alright,” James rolled his eyes, shooing her off. “Singlehandedly proving the stereotype, you are.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried, seeing as you’re singlehandedly destroying it,” Anjali replied pleasantly as she got up. “Enjoy dinner.”

“You too,” James echoed.

“Black, Pettigrew.” Anjali nodded at the other boys. “Tell Lupin I hope he feels better.”

“Sure,” Black said.

As she walked back to the Ravenclaw table, Anjali ignored the looks of interest and confusion that came her way. It wasn’t unusual—it happened almost every time she had a conversation with her cousin. And it didn’t even happen to just her; the boys were so popular that a number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and other Gryffindors approached one of them for various reasons about once a week. They were subjected to the same mild curiosity Anjali had just piqued from the student body. It was confirmation that she, and most other people who approached those boys, did not belong with them for some reason or another.

“What was that all about?” Ifeoma asked when she sat down.

“James wanted to switch Herbology groups,” Anjali explained lightly, digging into her curry with gusto.

“Can’t blame him,” said Ifeoma, wrinkling her nose. “Between Preston and Daisy, he’ll go absolutely mad.”

“Speaking of madness,” Hettie said, checking her watch, “You’re not actually going to do this ridiculous mission for Kettleburn, are you?”

Ah, yes—Anjali’s extra credit assignment for Kettleburn. 

Ever since she’d started taking Care of Magical Creatures the year before, Anjali had found herself besotted with the subject. She supposed it might have something to do with the way her family died (killed in the dead of night by a hungry Lethifold that left Anjali behind because she was too small), but she’d found the class fascinating. Professor Kettleburn, widely known for his particular disregard for school rules in the face of studying legendary creatures, was more than willing to assist Anjali in her pursuit for more knowledge. He had entrusted her with the care of some unicorn foals, who’d apparently been abandoned by their parents. Anjali was to look after them tonight in a shift that lasted until one in the morning—past curfew for anyone who didn’t have Astronomy at the time, which, incidentally, were second year Hufflepuffs, so there was no chance of Anjali blending in. Luckily, Kettleburn had been more than accommodating, and Anjali was determined to see this project through.

“Course I am!” Anjali said, affronted. “It’s not really a mission, anyway, he just wants someone to check in on those unicorn foals, and it’s in viewing distance from Hagrid’s place. He’s even given me express permission to be on the grounds so late, wrote me a note and everything. There’s no danger, not even of a detention.”

“Except you’ll be just outside the Forbidden Forest all night, and if those unicorns’ parents come back they might attack you.”

“Alright, so there’s a bit of danger,” Anjali amended, finishing the last of her curry. “But really, I’m not about to be an idiot about it. I’m not a Gryffindor, am I?”

“No, I suppose that’s fair,” Hettie muttered. Ifeoma, who was much more relaxed about this sort of thing, nudged her. 

“Cheer up, Hettie! Look on the bright side, if Anjali dies tonight you and I can get a week off from classes.” Ifeoma joked. Hettie let out a reluctant laugh.

“Just a week?” Anjali frowned mockingly. “I’m worth at least ten days, thank you.”

Still chuckling, her two friends waved her off, and grabbing the rest of her pumpkin juice to go, she headed out of the Great Hall and down to the Forbidden Forest, where she began to live out her childish fantasy—after all, how many people could say they spent their night watching over and caring for sweet, kind little unicorn foals.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Sirius's mind.

Sirius Black was getting rather sick of his best friend’s complaining.

It wasn’t just him, either—he could tell by Remus’s rolled eyes and Peter’s glazed stare that the others were getting annoyed by James’s constant gloom. For the past three weeks, since their very first Herbology lesson of the year, James had spoken of little else, grumbling as to his awful luck.

“And to think, I volunteered our group!” James said as they walked into the Great Hall after the class in question in late September. “I could have been with Evans, just the two of us partnered together for the whole _year_. But no, Sprout had to go ahead and switch Barker with the only bearable person in my group!”

That, Sirius had to grudgingly admit, was a fair point. It really was rotten luck for James to have neither been paired with Lily, nor have his cousin in his group to offset the addition of either Daisy Barker or Preston Pucey. Instead, Kumar had been transferred out and James was left to deal with the two annoying Ravenclaws. To make matters worse, she seemed unwilling to switch back when James had asked her a few days ago. Sirius wasn’t unsympathetic to his friend’s plight—well, he was, but only because the idiot wouldn’t shut up about it.

“I can’t believe my chance with Evans was taken from me after being lorded over my head like that,” James sighed. “It was tantalizing! I just wish—”

“For the love of Merlin, shut up!” Remus finally snapped, causing James to stop short and look over at him with an affronted gleam in his eyes. “Listen, James, we get it, you fancy Lily, but you’ve been going on about the Great Herbology Injustice for weeks now. Either get over it or find something else to talk about!”

James narrowed his eyes, and Sirius knew that the only reason Remus got away with yelling like that was because he was still recovering from the full moon two days before. He suspected Remus knew it too, because the boy glared relentlessly at James in an uncharacteristic challenge, and it was James who backed down this time, sitting down at the table with an undignified thump.

“But what am I to do?” He asked forlornly as the other three boys sat around him. They all reached for lunch. “She laughed in my face when I asked her out after last year’s Quidditch game.”

Ah, yes—while James had always enjoyed riling up Evans, it was only in the past year that he’d developed this desperate crush on her. He’d finally mustered the courage to ask her out after he won Gryffindor the Quidditch cup, only to be shot down by an incredulous and largely disdainful Evans. It had deflated James’s ego quite considerably, though it had to be admitted that it took no time at all to build it back up.

“You could buy her chocolates,” Peter suggested. James seemed to consider this idea, but Sirius and Remus exchanged exasperated glances and nipped that suggestion in the bud.

“That’s ridiculously sappy,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes, ignoring the pang in his chest.

“More to the point,” frowned Remus, “It’s a bit creepy.”

But James wasn’t convinced by either of their arguments. Sirius was, admittedly, a bit miffed that James was listening to _Peter_ , of all wizards, over him or Remus (who did, in fact, have excellent insight), but if nothing else, it was a testament to just how lovesick their friend was. “No, Peter’s right, don’t girls love that sort of thing?”

“Not when it comes from someone they don’t trust or like, mate,” said Sirius bluntly.

“What Sirius means,” said Remus, shooting him a glare that succeeded, in part, in making him feel a little guilty, “Is that chocolates are a gift that can easily be tampered with, and with your reputation for pranks, Lily has little reason to try them, even if you don’t mess with them.”

James began to deflate, but his eyes caught a figure behind Sirius and Peter and motioned for them to join the boys. Sirius glanced back over his shoulder and stifled an irritated groan—James’s cousin Anjali had broken away from her Ravenclaw friends and was approaching the Gryffindor table with a bemused look on her face.

It wasn’t that Sirius hated Anjali Kumar—on the contrary, she was a genuinely nice person. It was just that Kumar was… well, kind of boring. She was a quiet Ravenclaw who was always unruffled and calm, defined more by her cousin James or her friends Henrietta Silverfoot and Ifeoma Okoye than she was by anything personal. She wasn’t annoying, but she wasn’t interesting either, and Sirius Black preferred to spend his time with interesting people. He tended to feel quite indifferent about the likes of Anjali Kumar, but as she was his best mate’s cousin and practically James’ sister, he had to deal with her rather dull, unremarkable personality more than he ever wanted. 

Disliking her still seemed to be too strong a statement; it was more that he could hardly bear to spend any extended amount of time with someone so painfully normal. Still, he knew that Kumar hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and she really was a rather nice girl, which was more than he could say for some of her dormmates. Ultimately, it came down to the fact that he was able to stomach their stilted interactions, and he wasn’t willing to risk his friendship with James; so he always managed to maintain distant cordiality with her.

“Yes, James?” She asked. She nodded politely at the other three, and Sirius found himself nodding just as politely back.

“Should I get Lily chocolates?” He asked her immediately, foregoing a greeting. “Peter says I should, but these two don’t think it’s a good idea.” Kumar’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t look entirely surprised.

“I doubt she’ll even try them before tossing them, sorry, James,” she said, not unkindly. James’ face fell, and Sirius saw Kumar’s eyes softening.

“Mind if I sit here, Black?” She asked, gesturing at the seat next to him.

“Go ahead,” he said impassively, hiding the urge to gnash his teeth. Honestly, he’d literally never met anyone so completely uninteresting before. Still, his polite mask seemed to fool Kumar, because she offered him a quick, grateful smile as she sat down to face her cousin.

“James, why don’t you talk to her?” She asked in her quiet voice.

“I try!” James complained. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me!”

“Have you really tried to talk to her, or have you just sort of shouted at her to go out with you across your common room?” Kumar asked knowingly.

James fell silent.

“Lily Evans is a mature girl,” she continued. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s why you like her. Well, mature girls are hardly ever won over by a final goal in a Quidditch match or a box of chocolates. They help, of course, but you ought to talk to her, really get to know her, too.” 

To his consternation, Sirius saw Remus nodding in agreement with Kumar, and James was clearly turning over her words in his head. Even Peter was hanging off of her every word, as if by osmosis he’d suddenly become an expert in picking up girls. He scoffed, and all eyes were drawn to him.

“Er—no offense, Kumar,” he said politely, “But I think you’re simplifying the situation a bit. Evans here already has such a bad impression of our dear James that she won’t listen to what he says if he just tries to talk to her. He’s got to get her attention some other way.”

Kumar was raising her eyebrows again, and her brown eyes pierced into his grey ones. He could tell by the skeptical look on her face that she didn’t agree—and, to his extreme discomfort, she looked almost as if she could see the emotions he was trying so desperately to hide. Then she shrugged. “You might be right, Black,” she said mildly, deferring to his experience, “After all, I’ve never picked up a girl, and I haven’t been in the same House as Lily Evans for three years. You lot would know best, of course.”

(This was what Sirius meant—she was always so agreeable and placid, not even a sarcastic remark thrown in. Didn’t she ever push back on anything?)

James, who either didn’t hear Kumar’s concession or didn’t care about it, responded to Sirius. “Then how do I get her attention first?”

“Easy,” grinned Sirius, jerking his head at the Slytherin table. “There’s always Snivellus.”

His best friend began smirking, and Peter’s eyes lit up. Even Remus, who on the rare occasion made the odd half-hearted appeal to stop provoking Snivellus, seemed to have no problem with it this time, chuckling to himself as James’s eyes lit up.

Next to him, Anjali Kumar pursed her lips. “Well,” she said after a moment, “It seems you don’t need my help anymore, James. I hope you know what you’re doing—remember, Lily is still friends with Snape, even if the rest of us can see how prejudiced he is.” Her jaw tightened the slightest bit, and her gaze turned slightly disapproving. “Though I suppose if the rumors about Gryffindor-Slytherin Potions classes are correct, then Lily Evans has already seen you bully him.”

With that final word of warning, Kumar got up and started back towards her friends at the Ravenclaw table. James called a thanks, and she acknowledged it with a quick smile before she sat down and pulled out a book from her bag. Sirius had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the sight—typical. No life outside of homework for that one. Honestly, it never stopped shocking him that she was somehow related to James; but it was no matter, for they had much more important things to talk about now, like exactly what they wanted to do to old Snivellus.

“I was thinking,” said James, leaning forward in his seat, brown eyes glinting mischievously, “What about a nice, steady stream of water over his head for a day?”

“Might force him to finally wash his hair,” chortled Sirius.

Peter laughed. Remus rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile quirked at the edge of his mouth. 

“We ought to get him shampoo, while we’re at it,” James added. “We could charm a whole bottle to squeeze out on his head during the walk from the dungeons to the Great Hall.”

“James, mate,” said Sirius, a wide grin spreading across his lips. “This is why I love you.”

The other three laughed. Sirius kept his exuberant smile plastered on his face. Something in his chest was squeezing him painfully tight.

* * *

The truth was, Sirius was in love with his best friend.

When he’d met James Potter on the Hogwarts Express three years before, Sirius had immediately forged a connection with the other boy. James was funny, outgoing, and whip smart, and he had this sort of magnetism that put nearly everyone around him at ease. The only problem, Sirius had known, was that he was a blood traitor.

Though Sirius had hated his parents from a young age, due to the constant beratement and abuse he’d suffered at their hands, he was still a little boy who wanted nothing more than their love. He’d bought into their Pureblood supremacist ideology; of course he had, he’d been brainwashed with it since the moment he’d started performing accidental magic, in diapers. By the time he turned ten, there was a constant war raging in his head. He desperately yearned for the love and affection of his parents, but he resented them deeply for hurting him (and worse—Regulus) over and over again. When he got his Hogwarts letter, he was entirely torn: he knew that the only way to escape his parents’ influence was to end up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor (Ravenclaw, while generally avoided, was not normally grounds for disownment or shame), but a rather large part of him, one that sounded awfully like the seven year old version of him begging tearfully for a hug from his father, wanted to make his parents proud.

But when he met James Potter on the Hogwarts Express, the two of them forged an instant connection. James made him feel like he was worth something, and by the time they got to the castle, Sirius knew that blood traitor or not, James Potter was the kind of person he wanted to associate with. Sirius didn’t ask to be Sorted into Gryffindor—he didn’t have to. The assurance that somebody cared about him had boosted his courage immensely, and he knew the instant the hat was placed on his head that he would turn Hogwarts on its head.

James and Sirius grew close with Remus and Peter, who shared their dorm, and for two years, everything was fantastic. Sirius, of course, had to learn (or rather, unlearn) some hard lessons: for example, ‘Mudblood’ was a dirty slur and was generally referred to as ‘the M-word,’ and the appropriate term was ‘Muggleborn.’ Wizarding ancestry actually had very little to do with talent; Peter had one great grandfather who was a half blood in a long line of pureblood forefathers, and he was a mediocre wizard. Lily Evans, on the other hand, was brilliant, even though she was the only witch in her family. 

It was James and Remus who taught Sirius all this, with patience and without judgement. They worked on him meticulously throughout first and second year, teaching him to acknowledge his own prejudices and then to grow past them. When they found out that Remus was a werewolf in third year, Sirius was shocked and delighted to find that though his first instinct was to recoil, his second was to tell himself to unlearn his prejudice and support his friend.

And when he’d confided this to James, late at night while Remus recovered in the Hospital Wing and Peter snored peacefully beside them, James had turned to him and _beamed._ It had been dark and shadowed, but the moonlight from the window had caught the left side of James’ face _just so,_ and there was a proud, soft gleam in his left eye, and his cheek pulled up in a true, warm, kind smile, and Sirius’s stomach swooped, and…

…oh.

_Oh._

He liked James.

From the moment he had the realization, in late October, to the present moment nearly a year later, his feelings for his best friend had grown and grown, and now Sirius knew that he loved James, really and truly and deeply, more than anyone else he’d met before. 

And James, funny, outgoing, clever James, was _painfully_ straight and in love with a girl who was nothing like Sirius. 

And Sirius loved James, so he bore the absolute misery that was James’s nonstop chatter about perfect Lily Evans with a teasing grin plastered on his face and genuine advice bursting from his lips. 

And nobody, not even perceptive Remus, knew the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween 1974

By the end of October, classes had fallen into a nice rhythm, and the fourth years had found their set routines quite easily. The course load was difficult—the next year was their OWL year, and certain professors, like McGonagall and Flitwick, were giving them loads and loads of homework in preparation. Others, like Slughorn, had taken the opposite route, assigning so little that many a frazzled Ravenclaw felt woefully unprepared. 

Anjali, like most Ravenclaw students, excelled in a couple of subjects and did reasonably well in the rest, Herbology notwithstanding. Her best course was Care of Magical Creatures, which she’d only picked up as an elective the year before, like everyone else. She’d signed up on a whim, having been interested only in Muggle Studies and deciding that CoMC sounded better than Divination and less complicated than Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. She hadn’t expected to fall in love with the study of Magizoology.

It was like she’d finally found her niche—Hettie was brilliant in Astronomy and Ifeoma was practically a Charms prodigy, but Anjali had felt like she’d just been drifting until she’d discovered the Care of Magical Creatures elective in third year. She’d become pretty much obsessed, something her friends were all too quick to point out at every opportunity.

“You’re not going back to the Forest tonight, are you?” Asked Hettie, sounding scandalized as the three girls walked into Slughorn’s classroom for Potions. “You’ll miss the Halloween feast!”

“I have to!” Anjali insisted. “Those parents haven’t returned yet and the foals are still too small to survive on their own. Hagrid’s taking care of them now, but I promised I’d help out tonight.”

At the end of term last year, after their final exams, Anjali had approached Professor Kettleburn and asked him if there was any way she could do extra work with the magical creatures in the coming year. Kettleburn, who had a healthy apathy towards the rules on a rare good day and a blithe disregard for them on most others, agreed almost instantly and told her he’d inform her at the start of September if any opportunities arose. He’d found out from Hagrid that a couple of unicorn foals, barely three months old, had been left in the forest by their parents, which was an unusual occurrence but not altogether unheard of. Unicorn parents often left their foals for weeks at a time to scour for food. He’d tasked Anjali with watching them until the parents returned. They’d all thought that within three weeks, the foals would be back with their parents—but Anjali had been taking care of them for nearly two months now, and she and Hagrid were getting quite worried.

Ifeoma shook her head in mild exasperation. “At least come for an hour,” she bargained as she sat down in front of her cauldron. “Then you can go and babysit unicorn foals to your heart’s content.”

Anjali agreed, taking her own seat at the table. Hettie grumbled about Anjali and her priorities as she unceremoniously sat down on her stool.

“I still don’t see why you’re skipping a _feast_ to spend time in the Forbidden Forest, of all places,” she sighed.

“It’s really not that simple, Hettie,” Anjali said, biting her lip. “Unicorns don’t usually leave their young for more than a couple of weeks. Something must have happened—something bad. I have to go help out those poor unicorns.”

Her two friends stared at her, a little worried all of a sudden. “You’ll be careful, though, won’t you?” Ifeoma asked. “If there is something out there hurting the unicorns, they might come after the foals, won’t they? You’ll be right in their way!”

“I’ll be fine,” Anjali said comfortingly. “Anything cowardly enough to hurt a unicorn wouldn’t dare attack a witch—and especially not when someone as imposing as Hagrid is just a stone’s throw away.”

But neither Hettie nor Ifeoma looked convinced. Anjali smiled at them, but even she felt a certain glimmer of doubt. _Was_ she in danger? Despite her reassuring words, she didn’t entirely believe what she’d said to her friends. Surely anything evil enough to hurt a unicorn would have no qualms about attacking a fourteen year old witch—coward or not. Perhaps she should take up Hagrid’s offer of coming with her.

It was right then that Professor Slughorn came in, and the Ravenclaws had no more time to chatter as they began their class for the day. 

“Good morning, Ravenclaws!” Beamed Professor Slughorn. “Ah—Preston, I spoke with Professor Binns about that detention. It looks like you have the evening free after all! Might I hope that you will be attending the Halloween party in my office tonight?”

Preston Pucey, who was even more insufferable than usual in the face of Horace Slughorn’s favoritism, puffed his chest out. “Of course, Professor.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Said Slughorn merrily. He clapped his hands together. “Happy Halloween, everyone! I rather hoped I might theme today’s lesson with the day in mind, but unfortunately the fourth year curriculum does not include any directly relevant potions. Shame, too—my NEWT students are doing a Blood-replenishing potion, and the second years will be starting their Hair-raising potions—but no matter, I believe the draught I’ve chosen for you all will be very enjoyable indeed.” He beamed around at them. “Your class will be working on Exploding potions this week!”

Anjali raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Bet that will go over well in his third period.” She whispered to Hettie and Ifeoma, who giggled. Everyone in their year knew that the third period on Tuesdays and Thursdays was when Slytherins and Gryffindors in their fourth year had potions. A class dedicated to Exploding potions with the Marauders and Snape in the same room was sure to be Slughorn’s worst idea yet.

The Potions Master looked over at them. “Something the matter, Angeline?”

“No, sir,” Anjali reminded him wearily. He never got her name right. “And, er—it’s Anjali.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Slughorn said, but as he always said that and always forgot it by the next week, it didn’t mean anything. Sure enough, he merely cleared his throat and told them to open their books and flip through to page 173, where the Exploding potion was listed. “Now, can anybody tell me what this potion is used for? Anj—er, Miss Kumar, since you were discussing something so intensely with your friends, why don’t you share?”

Anjali furrowed her eyebrows. “The Exploding potion is used to, er, explode things, sir.”

Everyone laughed at that, even Slughorn. “Cheeky,” he chortled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Anjali hadn’t _meant_ to be cheeky, “But not quite the answer I was looking for.” He turned back to the class. “Anyone else?”

Preston Pucey raised his hand. Slughorn beamed at him. 

“Yes, Preston, go right ahead.”

“The Exploding potion is a defensive brew that, when dropped at a high velocity, provides a concussive blast that is often able to create a crater with a radius of about three meters.” He said obligingly, with even more unctuous a tone than usual. “It’s highly volatile, but only when thrown; you could carry around an Exploding potion for weeks without any sort of danger, though the longer it remains unused, the stronger the blast eventually is.”

“Precisely,” beamed Slughorn. “Take ten points.”

“Wasn’t that the same as saying it explodes, though?” Said Hettie indignantly to the other two as they left the dungeons about two hours later. “He ought to have given _you_ those bloody points!”

“In order to do _that,_ ” Anjali said, with a long-suffering sigh, “He’d have to at least know my _name,_ and we all know that he has never once attempted to retain that information. Pity, that—I mean, if _I_ had the ability to simply forget the names of people I’ve had in classes for years, the travesty that’s _Horace Slughorn_ would be first on my list.”

Her friends just grinned widely at her, shaking their heads in mock pity. 

“Oh, Anjali,” said Ifeoma under her breath. “If only you were this outspoken with more than just us and your cousin. Not a soul in the school would overlook you then.”

* * *

The Halloween feast this year, Sirius decided gleefully, was the best yet.

The decor, of course, was spectacular. Bats flew overhead, occasionally running through ghosts who’d popped inside for a quick look; they perched on floating stands just below the enchanted ceiling. A band of what seemed like six or seven vampires were playing surprisingly upbeat and folksy music in the corner—Sirius noticed that one of them was playing that Muggle instrument, bagpipes. In front of them, about a dozen skeletons, all dressed in the heights of Victorian fashion, were dancing to their tunes.

The dinner options were a chaotic but mouth-watering array of savory foods, mish-mashed from a variety of cultures around the world. There was, of course, the regular English dishes of shepherd’s pie and roast meats—but there was also dim sum and fried rice, naan and various kinds of koftas. Further down the table was a delightful spread of tamales and carnitas, lasagna and even neapolitan pizza. It seemed as if the school was determined to provide every one of its students the kind of comfort food they’d wanted since the term started. 

“Don’t tell me there’s actually palak paneer,” said James, eyeing a dish of spinach gravy and bits of cheese with suspicious longing, as if he didn’t dare believe what he saw. “I must be dreaming.”

Sirius grinned and reached out, pinching James just above the elbow. His friend yelped and jumped, turning to glare back at him. “What was that for?” He asked, mildly affronted.

“You’re not dreaming, mate,” said Sirius, trying to ignore the ghostly tingle in his fingers, where he’d touched James. 

“Dig in,” said Remus, helping himself to some brisket. Peter reached out for some pizza, and then passed the dish over to Sirius, who took the remaining two slices. 

“Oi!” Said James, scowling lightly. “I wanted some of that!”

The other three looked at him incredulously—he’d helped himself to the paneer dish and some naan already. Pizza was an odd addition to his meal.

But James Potter was nothing if not spoiled; he was, after all, the only child of two very rich and very indulgent parents, and he’d rarely wanted for something he couldn’t get. 

“You could always get more,” Remus sighed tiredly. “Really, it isn’t that hard.”

Sirius saw James’s gaze slide over to the Slytherin table; a moment later, James grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, his mood instantly uplifted. “Right you are, Remus, right you are.” He pointed his wand carefully at the Slytherin table, where old Snivellus and his gang of wannabe Death Eaters were sitting.

“I didn’t mean—” Remus started.

“Accio pizza!” James muttered, and with a _whoosh,_ the tray zoomed recklessly over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, nearly braining poor Ifeoma Okoye, before landing perfectly in front of James, who smiled victoriously.

Sirius was laughing, as he always did when James was being a fool. There was nothing else that could quite bring up his mood the way James Potter did, with his careless nerve and casual misbehavior. He looked over at the Slytherin table; Snivellus was covered in what looked like tomato sauce, and with a swell of satisfaction, Sirius realized he must have been trying to grab a piece when James summoned it. Mulciber and Avery looked downright murderous, and Wilkes was staring mournfully down at his plate, where a single, solitary slice lay.

“Funny that they should hate Muggles so much and yet eat their food so zealously,” sneered James. “Stinking hypocrites. Another slice, Sirius?”

Sirius nodded, opening his mouth to reply (and perhaps dazzle James with his hilarity; one could never know, and Sirius was entitled to his hope, however futile it may be), but his opportunity was stolen away from him with a shout from the Ravenclaw table.

“Oi, Potter!” Hettie Silverfoot was glaring at them from the Ravenclaw table. Her raised voice had attracted the attention of a number of Hufflepuff fifth years, who watched the proceedings with interest. “You nearly took Ifey’s bloody head off!”

“Well, she’s fine, isn’t she?” Drawled Sirius boredly. “No need to get so worked up, Silverfoot.”

Remus gave him a warning glance, then sent an apologetic look over at Ifeoma. “They’re idiots,” he said easily, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not their bloody keeper, Remus!” Hettie snarled.

“No,” said James agreeably. “That’d be Jack Barnaby.” He gestured to a boy further down the table, a stocky and rather well built sixth year who was deep in conversation with Marcia Wood and who was indeed the Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He, like most of the Great Hall, hadn’t noticed the commotion between the fourth year Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws. Peter snickered, and a few of the Hufflepuff fifth years smiled.

Henrietta went quite red in the face, but a placating hand on her arm seemed to stop her from pulling out her wand and hexing the boys. Ifeoma Okoye, ever the even-tempered, just rolled her eyes over at the boys.

“You owe me,” she called. The Hufflepuffs were looking back and forth between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws like they were watching a particularly interesting Quidditch match. “I’ll expect fifteen galleons in damages, Potter, as well as a slice of that pizza.”

“But I didn’t even hit you!” James protested.

“Emotional damages,” Ifeoma amended. Then, she raised an eyebrow. “Or would you prefer we made McGonagall aware of your thievery?”

All four boys blanched.

“Here’s the pizza,” Peter acquiesced, using the levitation charm to sneak it over to the Ravenclaw table. Hettie and Ifeoma grinned and helped themselves.

“Hang on,” said James loudly, causing the dozen or so Hufflepuffs, who had finally turned back around to their food, to look back over at him. He ignored them and instead stared hard at Ifeoma and Hettie, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where’s Anjali?”

Huh.

Sirius hadn’t noticed that James’ cousin wasn’t sitting with her only friends; she wasn’t exactly a noticeable presence. But now that James had pointed it out, he saw that she wasn’t at the Ravenclaw table at all. Strange, that—he could have sworn he saw her walking into the Charms classroom as the Gryffindors were leaving it, so unless she’d gotten sick between then and the feast, there was no reason for her to miss it.

Hettie and Ifeoma exchanged a look. The Hufflepuffs tittered interestedly.

“She’s doing some extra credit,” Ifeoma replied. 

Sirius let out a slightly derisive snort. Figures—she was _obsessed_ with school, it seemed. The poor girl needed to get a life, and the sooner the better. His mild curiosity now sated, he returned to his pizza, which tasted _much_ better when it was stolen from Slytherin. Remus looked slightly impressed by her dedication, but otherwise disinterested. Peter, who was admittedly a bit of a gossip, looked as if he wanted to burst with a number of questions—but James beat him to it.

“What class could she possibly have extra credit in that forces her to miss the bloody Halloween feast?” He asked, perplexed.

Judging by the looks on their faces, neither Hettie nor Ifeoma were going to answer that; not that they would have had the chance to, anyway, as that was the precise moment that Head Girl Alice Chang whirled her head around to fix the boys with a glare.

“Enough!” She snapped. “Potter, one more unseemly shout from you and I’ll be sending you and Black to detentions at opposite ends of the castle!”

“What did I do?” Sirius said in an injured voice. He was more offended at the accusation than the potential consequence—Alice didn’t know that he and James had a two-way mirror to use during separate detentions.

“The two of you are practically the same person,” Peter pointed out. “Attached at the hip, and all.”

Sirius gave him a seething, burning glare. _“Traitor!”_ He hissed.

Alice raised her eyebrows at his show of betrayal. “Punishing James alone never seems to do the trick; but punish his boyfriend along with him, and he might actually learn a thing or two!”

Sirius tried to stop himself from flushing at the word _boyfriend._ His cheeks warmed slightly, but he tried to play it off as indignation. “Are you at least going to tell Okoye and Silverfoot off, too?”

“Hm.” Alice glanced over at the two Ravenclaw girls, who were suddenly blinking innocently at her. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?” James protested hotly.

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “Because I like them.”

“That’s not fair!” Sirius complained. “That’s house prejudice, that is! I thought you were better than that, Al!”

A tiny grin twitched at the corner of Alice Chang’s lips. “Not house prejudice, just simple, straightforward favouritism.” She said. “Now, shut up or I’ll attract attention from the teachers!”

The boys complied grudgingly, sending wary glances over to the long table. McGonagall was looking over at them suspiciously, but the staff hadn’t quite realized what had happened. Strange—the Slytherins had usually complained to a teacher by this point.

But a quick look back at Snape and his crew of Death Eater friends showed that they had in fact chosen to tidy themselves up first, having been covered in pizza sauce after James had stolen their platter. They wouldn’t be caught dead in public looking undignified if they could help it, so they had to clean themselves up. Now that they were clean and scourgified, however, they’d lost any evidence they’d had that James had stolen their pizza, and so instead glared quite murderously in the Marauders’ direction. Sirius smirked smugly at them, and then gave them a jaunty wink.

Snivellus, in particular, went an angry, rashy red.

Now that the Slytherins were forced into silence, and the Gryffindors had been sufficiently cowed by Alice Chang, Sirius turned back quietly to James, Remus, and Peter. James was frowning slightly, and had abandoned both his naan and pizza.

“What’s wrong?”Asked Peter.

“We need to finish that map.” James said plaintively. 

Ah, yes—the map.

It had been Sirius’s idea, actually; Peter had once complained back in their second year that they kept getting into trouble, even despite James’s invisibility cloak, and James had mused that it would be so much easier to sneak around if they knew where the teachers and prefects were patrolling. Sirius had then had the brilliant idea of creating a map which tracked everyone in the castle, and which couldn’t be fooled by disillusionment charms or invisibility cloaks or even Polyjuice potion. When third year rolled around and they had found the secret passage into Honeydukes cellar, and Remus had told them the truth about the Whomping Willow, they’d decided they should add passageways to the map.

It was a tricky bit of magic, and it wasn’t yet complete. The layout of the school, of course, was, as well as the many passages that led in and out of Hogwarts; all that remained was the tracking charm, which would register the names and locations of everyone on the grounds, and the truth spell, which would prevent anyone from confusing the parchment. 

“We will, mate,” said Sirius, unconcerned. “By the time the next semester rolls around—”

“No,” James said, shaking his head. He narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw table curiously. “Anjali is _up_ to something,” he said decisively. “She’s got a secret. I want to know exactly what it is, now.”

Personally, Sirius was skeptical. He’d never seen Anjali Kumar do anything _remotely_ suspicious, and he didn’t know if she was even capable of rule breaking. It was more likely, he rather thought, that weak, talentless little Peter received an Order of Merlin than it was that Anjali Kumar was sneaking around in secret.

Remus, however, seemed to take issue with something else. The young werewolf sighed and shook his head. “James,” he said resignedly, “You really _are_ the nosiest blighter to ever walk these halls. Your poor cousin deserves some privacy, don’t you think?”

“Said poor cousin would probably have a heart attack if you so much as asked her to perform unauthorized magic in the hallways,” Sirius added. “Bless her heart—I really do think she’s skipped the bleeding feast for some homework.”

But James just shook his head stubbornly. “You don’t know her like I do,” he insisted, his eyes flashing with curiosity. “She hasn’t opened up to you, so you don’t know what she’s like. I’m telling you, she’s up to something.”

* * *

James was, of course, correct. 

As the Gryffindor boys argued in the castle, Anjali sat out on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, leaning against a tree as she watched the two golden unicorn foals carefully. She was on high alert, ready to react if something jumped out at her from the shadows. The Forbidden Forest was, after all, home to many a hungry beast.

Her wand was out, and she was ready to cast Lumos at the slightest hint of danger, though at present the forest had not yet crossed the boundary between ‘creepy but manageable’ and ‘certain to induce sudden death.’ There was the odd, menacing rustle in the bushes, but unicorns were very adept at sensing danger, and neither of the foals had spooked yet. The colt was sniffing curiously at some grass, evidently suspicious about its nutritive properties. His sister hadn’t the same caution, and was instead snapping her teeth at it playfully, tasting it before spitting it out.

The colt nickered at his sister, who huffed back. They began trotting around each other in circles, clearly gearing up to play. Anjali got to her feet, ready to jog after them to keep an eye on them. Even at a few months old, unicorns were faster than humans, but Anjali, Hagrid, and Kettleburn had raised these two since they were just a few weeks out of birth, and they knew to wait for her to catch up.

The filly ran up quickly to Anjali and nickered, reaching out and touching her nose gently to Anjali’s hip. Anjali smiled down at her and gently rubbed her cheek. Her brother, feeling left out, came up on Anjali’s other side and pawed lightly at the ground, demanding the same attention.

But the minute Anjali took her hand away from the filly to pet the colt, the feisty unicorn took off in a canter, clearly curious and ready to explore her home. Her brother, not to be outdone, pelted away after her.

“Oi!” Anjali said. “Wait up!” She pointed her wand in front of her. “Lumos!” She said as she began to run behind the little unicorns. She worked hard to ignore the sudden pang of fear she felt as she entered the forest. It was a rather scary place, and she didn’t exactly fancy the undoubtedly undignified end she would meet, were she to in fact meet her end here. She wasn’t too worried about losing the foals, however; they recognized her as a friend and a caretaker, and this wasn’t the first time they’d run off to do some exploring. At this age, they were eager and inquisitive and just learning independence, but they still wanted the comfort and familiarity of their trusted keepers. 

Regardless, Anjali thought with mild exasperation and a stab of nervousness, it was just her luck that the bloody foals wanted to lead her deeper into the forest. If it were any other magical creature, she’d be sure that they were trying to lure her for her own gruesome murder. But unicorns were pure, full of powerful and innocent magic, full of love and joy.

She heard the foals whinnying up ahead. Her brows furrowed, and her heartbeat spiked with anxiety. They didn’t sound playful and happy anymore—instead, they seemed distressed. She raised her wand higher as she slowed down, stopping and hiding behind a large, gnarled tree.

(She was no Gryffindor! She wasn’t going to burst in there rashly and try and fight a—a bloody troll, or an ogre, for Rowena’s sake!)

She swallowed tightly and quickly checked her surroundings. Apart from her heart beating double speed in her chest, the only sounds she could hear were the shuffling of the two foals and her own rather loud breathing. She peaked around the corner of the tree cautiously.

The two foals were pawing the ground apprehensively. The filly was continuing to whinny in alarm, and the colt let out a series of anxious snorts. They seemed to be reacting to something on the ground.

Anjali looked around. There was nothing there, at least so far as she could see. In a slow, cautious move, she took a step forward, away from the tree.

Nothing happened.

Heart pounding hard, palms sweating, Anjali took another step forward, and then a third. The forest rustled with its usual ominous noise, but nothing jumped out suddenly or attacked her.

Slowly, nervously, she approached the foals, frowning at whatever had spooked them.

It was on the ground, whatever it was, but it must have been small. For one thing, the two unicorns were practically nose to nose and covering the scene entirely. For another, Anjali couldn’t see a body, which was promising, though she reminded herself quickly that if it were, say, a Thestral, she wouldn’t be able to see it, anyway. 

But it was no Thestral.

When Anjali managed to get close enough to see what it was, she felt her eyes widen with horror. She stumbled back, hitting the tree she’d hidden behind quite hard with her shoulder—she thought she heard her blouse tear and her skin suddenly smarted. Nausea swirled and clenched at her stomach. Swallowing tightly, she raised her wand into the air and sent off bright red sparks, so high that they would certainly be visible from Hagrid’s cabin.

Try as she might, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

The two unicorn foals were nudging a mostly decomposed carcass. The bones were partly scattered, and mostly covered in dirt, which was why Anjali hadn’t spotted them earlier. Only a piece of its skin remained, stretched thin over half-buried protruding ribs. Everything else had been stripped away, as if the environment had quite meticulously removed almost any clue as to its identity.

But Anjali knew.

Her sharp eyes followed the skin over the ribs to its jagged edge, took in the dried, silvery blood that splattered somewhat haphazardly over the rest of the bones. Its horn was missing, she realized, feeling bile rise in her throat. The mane and tail, too, had clearly been stripped, hacked away, and presumably for potions use.

How utterly vile.

Another terrible, sinking realization hit Anjali as she looked at her young charges. Unicorns were rather solitary creatures, unless they were in their family pods. They were peaceful creatures, but instinctively wary, even of each other. There was no reason for the foals to react with such distress.

Not unless this dead adult was its mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey! new update, but probably the last one for a while--school starts soon, so even though i'll (hopefully) be writing, i won't be editing or publishing all that much.
> 
> hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think :) the good, the bad, the awkward, the ugly--i wanna know it all!
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> stay safe! sending love in these difficult times <3


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